Poisoned Heart
by Dancing In The Rain
Summary: Obsession, desire, and power. The creation of Naraku, from a very unusual point of view. (Oneshot)


_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Inuyasha._

Poisoned Heart

Hidden, waiting, they watched from afar. The stench of death and the excitement of violence is what had first drawn them. The human had killed many people, releasing rivers of blood, staining the ground. It had satisfied all of them for a while, but the roaring hunger grew again, and again.It was never enough to fill their swollen bellies. The gnawing was incessant, aggravating their hunger further.

Whenever a slaughter was done they came, hundreds upon hundreds, to feast on the remains. The human never stopped the murders, and so they continued to follow his bloody trail. There was once a point in time, many years ago, that they had almost had the delight of devouring him. He had been on the edge of death, but to their dismay he had recovered, walking away whole and unscarred. Perhaps he knew that they stalked him, and it was the dread of their presence that had made him heal faster.

Then one night, orange flames had licked the air. The wood and grasses were on fire. Watching from a distance, they had all smiled in the scorching glow. The mortal could not escape the fire; he would be roasted alive. They waited eagerly, fangs and claws shining in the silver light of the moon. Black smoke drifted lazily between their bodies, masking their glowing eyes. It was a great disappointment, when a crawling figure had finally made its way out of the building. He was alive after all. Glancing around, they read a decision in each other's crimson eyes. Slithering and crawling, flying and staggering, they made their way over to the fallen man. The mortal was unconscious, laying face first in the dirt.

Suddenly in fright, they backed away, scattering into the dark shadows. A woman was sprinting down the road. It was not only her attire that told each and every one of them what she was, it was also her presence. It stung their hides, and left a bitter taste in their mouth. She was a priestess. Kneeling beside the man, they watched her inspect his wounds. Each one of them heard her gasp in horror, most likely as she saw that almost all of his skin had melted or burned off. Carefully the priestess picked the man up, and made her way uneasily down the road. At a safe distance they followed, keeping just out of range of the priestess's awareness.

Gazing quietly, they observed the woman place the man inside a cave. Once she was gone, they swarmed into the confines of the rock walls. The man was now placed upon some leaves on the floor, and lay helplessly at their mercy, but they did not want him anymore, at least not yet. Trailing the priestess they had passed by a small village. Hidden among the huts, they had sensed an object that they had thought to only be a whispered legend.

Many had flicked out moistened tongues to run over their lips and teeth, at the taste of pure unbridled power. They wanted it; every single one of them, but the powerful priestess guarded it. None of them had the strength or ability to stand against her, but the power called to them. It chewed on the insides, filling them with an aching carnal desire even greater than their blood lust. They needed the mortal man below them to fulfill their desire.

Days went by, and they watched the man slowly heal enough to be aware of his surroundings. Wrapped all in bandages, he gazed at the woman who healed him with his one uncovered eye. His body was so badly burnt and scarred, that he could not move, or speak. Only his single right eye, shifted back and forth nervously, studying the priestess's movements. She was young, and beautiful, and sometimes her long black hair would brush across his forehead as bent to inspect him. He could almost imagine how silky and smooth it would feel. Her eyes were kind, but she rarely spoke to him. When she left him alone, he felt the oppressive presence of the dark creatures around him.

While he gazed at her, he felt a strong need to take her into his arms, and run his fingers over her pale skin. The longer he watched her, the stronger the need grew. If he had been able to move, he would have smothered her in his arms and never let go. Then one afternoon, she mentioned something about a hanyou under her breath, and he knew that she was thinking out loud as she treated his wounds. After being silent for a few weeks, he had learned to become a good listener, and from the tone of her voice he could tell that she held a great affection towards the hanyou.

The man's blood boiled at the thought of another touching the woman, and again the desire to reach out to her came upon him, but this time he wanted to cover her with kisses and soft words. He wished to make her forever his. Desperately he tried to move, but none of his muscles responded. The priestess finished dressing his wounds and left, oblivious to his raging desire. Dark thoughts filled the man's head. A filthy hanyou could accomplish what he could not. The creatures above him sensed his hate, and longing. Soon it would be time.

They watched the mortal's obsession grow, to the point where it consumed his entire being. If the priestess knew the man's thoughts, she kept it very well hidden. They sensed his heart, and knew that it was poisoned. He was as black as they were now, all he had to do was give them permission, and they would all get what they wanted. Grinning in the dark they waited. Eventually, they noticed the man's eye glancing in their direction. He was considering them an option.

One day, after another frustrating attempt at moving, he had addressed them, allowing them to devour his soul. With glee they fell upon him, tearing him to bits, while at the same time merging together in a rush of power. From the pain and carnal desire, rose a tall human figure. His long black hair fell in waves down his back, and he grinned down at his new body. Bringing a hand close to his face, he clenched it making a fist, and then straightened the fingers slowly. He could feel the newfound power beating in his body, running thickly underneath his skin.

Turning sharply he faced the entrance of the cave, briefly exposing a prominent spider shaped scar on his back. A common desire for power was inside his soul, and he knew how to fulfill it. Staring out at the swaying field of grass, and at the dark forest behind it, he speculated briefly. He was a unique creature, a curious mixture of numerous demons, and a single human. There were thousands of forms that he could choose from, and many names to sort through. Perhaps a new name was better for his new form. _Naraku,_ yes, he liked the sound of that.

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_Author's Note: So, what did you think? I hadn't seen any other fics like this, so I thought I would write one. _


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